All The Kings Horses All The Kings Men Couldn't Put Me Together Again
by MintQueenJo
Summary: After heartbreak has Beatrice Prior uprooting her life, she has to come to terms with redesigning who she is after spending years being someone somebody else molded her into. She'll need to come to terms with loving herself and finding that she can be the person she needs most in her life.
1. Chapter 1

The thing about heartbreak is that everyone sees it as something to get over, never something you have to live with. You walk with it hand in hand as you try to navigate your life. It's something I try to cope with every day, something that I wish to erase at the bottom of every bottle I can get my pale hands on.

I wanted a lot of things in my life.

Love.

Children.

Comfort.

I wanted the person I moved from my small town to be with. I moved miles for that person, I wrote stories and painted pictures with those words. I sit and stare at the blank page in front of me, the bottle half empty next to me.

My fingers tap idly against the keys staring at the words that should be there but my heartbreak stole them away.

On the other side of the split screen was my blog, each notification a user asking where I went, why'd I disappear. It's been days.

It's been weeks.

It's been months since I posted a new short story.

It hurt so much to think about it. I closed my laptop and forwent the glass, choosing to drink straight from the bottle. The lights in my shitty apartment flickering once, twice, then going out all together. From the scream next door and the quiet dimness outside the power must be out. I had my answer why when I heard sirens.

Fuck. Okay, can't cook dinner like this.

And I'm not drunk, but still not sober enough to drive.

I look at myself in the mirror, making sure that I'm not too haggard. Nah, I think as I smooth back my blonde hair down. Regretting the hack job I gave my once long tresses. My puff face is splashed with water, the coolness of it not doing much to change anything. Teeth brushed and making sure my clothes and my body don't stink I head out the door.

Apartment keys bouncing against my phone in my sweater pocket.

Really who wears a sweater in the middle of summer?

I sigh, fingers of my left hand going to my bicep, thinking of the now healed scars I placed there to ruin the ink I had that reminded me of my ruined forever.

I try to remember what places to go to, and where not to be. Avoiding reminders was harder than what people said it would be. It's not a specific place but more like a memory with creme brulee that makes your stomach go sour because you remember the first time you shared it with the person you loved most. Or the way rain smells on a certain day at a certain place and it reminds you of a kiss, or a vacation.

The sharp pain in my chest is back, and I head into the closest place I could, an art gallery, that by the look of the girl next to the counter, is about to close.

"Sorry," I mumble and slump a little, hands searching every pocket for my inhaler or the bottle of Ativan I kept. Coming up empty I squeeze my eyes shut and count in and out. The pain still there, and in my tipsy state I want to cry.

It wasn't going out that bothered me.

It was trying to find a life outside of the person you thought you were. The person you moulded yourself to be when you were in love. The person you have to put back together again after a heartbreak.

"Are you okay?" The deep voice rumbles next to my head and with my eyes still tightly squeezed shut I shake my head and point to my chest.

"It'll pass, just," I take another deep breath, "it'll pass." I repeated. It'll pass just like everything I thought I knew. Just like my forever that was promised to me.

The pain never fully goes away but I can open my eyes soon enough and the brown ones that are so close scare me. I may have been a little disappointed because they weren't the blue ones I wanted to see. No those ones are gone.

They weren't mine and never will be again.

"You okay?" The guy says again, the girl no longer looking annoyed and just worried. She had a water bottle in one hand and a towel in the other. "Zoe, may i have the towel?"

The bright blue haired girl hands it to him, her eyes still on me. "Panic attacks suck don't they."

Not a question, a statement.

"Not a panic attack this time, just anxiety." I take the towel before the guy can put it on my and I bury my face in it and let a few tears escape, they can be worked up to the anxiety. Not the throbbing of my shattered heart in my chest.

I am going through the five stages of grief and I'm stuck on depression. I wouldn't move on, or maybe I would. Is it still acceptance if you still hurt? If you still cry yourself to sleep every night? I should thank them, I did come into their art studio, gallery I think, and cry and have a scene in their lobby.

"I'm sorry for just busting in here. I didn't want to do this in the street. Also sorry for having a scene in your lobby." I barely pull my face away from the towel, just enough to hopefully be heard before I wipe my face down and hand it back, the smile I have perfected on my face once more.

"Life just, uh," I wave my hands around before sticking them back into my pockets. "Life just fucks you over sometimes. So, uh, thanks again."

I don't spare either of them a glance and walk around them, my hands instinctively going to smooth my hair and fix my clothes. My hands needing to be busy or I'd dig my nails into the flesh on my palms, my teeth go to attack the skin on my bottom lip. Habits I once thought I had unlearned.

The breeze of this summer night doesn't cool my clammy skin and I tuck my head down against my chest and march on. The power didn't seem to be on thanks to a text from my next door neighbor, a nice lady with one too many cats, with one who is going to have kittens soon. Maybe I could ask to have one.

I was lonely.

I needed someone or something.

I was tucked away in the back corner of the pub I found, a half eaten basket of homemade chips and burger I picked at gracing me with their company. My friend Christina checking on me. I felt bad she was on vacation with her fiance Will, and spent more time making sure I was alive than actually enjoying her vacation.

I had to play games on my phone because I disabled my instagram and my facebook, seeing the wedding pictures and the announcements, and baby posts were just to much. Having to pretend you were happy when you aren't for others was draining.

My therapist told me that the first step to fixing myself was loving myself. That I couldn't truly love someone if I couldn't love me.

I guess in a way she's right.

I pick up a chip and even though my stomach rolls at the thought of eating I do. I should eat. I stay until they close at three before making my way back home.

That word filled me with so much dread. Home. My home was supposed to be in the arms of the person I loved most and he stopped loving me. I wasn't his home and he wasn't mine anymore.

I don't stop the tears once my apartment door is shut, I let them slide down my cheeks as I undress and climb in bed. I let them spill out onto my pillow as I bite a corner to muffle my sobs. I'm sure my neighbors are tired of me crying all the time.

My blankets stick to me in the morning, my sweat soaking the sheets. The AC never kicked on and I remember why, the power. Fucking hell.

Once I wish that I was back, back in the house that I helped make a home. Back where nothing was expected to go wrong. Back when I had a someday and a forever.

I close my eyes once more and breathe.

After a cold shower and I'm dressed I gather my things once more and head to the library, the Lyft ride over was nauseating. A contact high if it should be stated. With a nod to the librarians and a wave I quickly find a table to once again stare at my laptop. Nothing coming to me, I scrapped the story I had going about a happy girl in love with her happy boyfriend. Maybe once I was happy again that story would return, for now I could just rewrite it?

The chair across from me scrapes the floor, a small oops and then my eyes slowly drift upwards to meet a slightly familiar pair of brown ones.

"Hello." He whispers then holds up a finger, patting himself down over and over before nodding and reaching into a back pocket for his keys. He fiddles with them then hands me a familiar keychain with a USB and small fox figure on it. "You dropped this on the way out." He's shushed and a sheepish smile spreads on his face, the two rings in his lip get snagged by his tongue as he fidgets before motioning a hand to the chair. I nod before pulling my headphones out of my bag.

_Hi! I'm sorry about last night._ I scribble on the back of a forgotten receipt and push it towards him. My hands seem a little shaky as I watch out of the corner of my eye as he picks it up and reads it.

_No problem, I get bad attacks too. Eric by the way._

_Beatrice._

_Tris it is!_

He's back to messing with his lip rings and I give a small genuine smile.

_Tris is fine then._

We fall into a steady quietness of the library, I only stop when my stomach gives a growl of unpleasantness and Eric's head snaps up. "Hungry?"

"Yeah, I should get something to eat." I respond as I pack my things up.

He closes the sketch book he has with him before stacking it and a text book together. "My treat?"

I stare at him, confused. A date?

His smile is almost infectious but the thought of a date scares me, so soon after everything. "I'm sorry, I'm, uh. I'm. uhm," I don't know what to say and the panic rises.

His face slightly falls and one hand goes up. "Say no more, I am so sorry. I should've known from the ring." He shoves his hand in his pocket, books tucked under his other arm as he gives a little shrug with his head down. "See ya." It sounds defeated and as he's out the door I realize I made him think I wasn't single. At his words I bring my left hand up to my face, the blue stoned wedding band I wore made my stomach uncomfortable and my heart lurched painfully.

Heartbreak wasn't something easy to get over, and never would be.

It'd take more than all the king's horses and all the king's men to put me back together again.

**So I am going through a really rough spot right now and this story is very personal to me. A warning that at this point this isn't a very happy story, the ending may not be happy for some. I haven't felt the need to get my emotions down in a story for sometime, I went from a childish-barely-adult adult and had my whole life change at 20 years old. Some things have left me very happy and excited while others have left me very anxious and beyond depressed. This story, even though I'm winging it and only have a thin understanding of what I hope to get done, is a release for me and these emotions.**

**It is my grasp on love and heartbreak as I have experienced it with a lot of made up bullshit thrown in. Some events are close to what I have experienced and some are there for plot purposes. I hope to make this shorter and actually finish it in a timely manner than ****Skipping Stones**** I thank everyone for understanding. Feedback is greatly appreciated and I will try to respond and thank everyone that I can.**

**The song that I greatly feel right now and it is the title of the story is The Archer by Taylor Swift.**


	2. Chapter 2

Almost every day I returned to the library to look for Eric, the receipt with our correspondence on it tucked away in a notebook for safe keeping. Every day I would sit to where, if he wasn't in the library, I could look at the door.

Almost every day I felt disappointed. Disappointed for the first genuine human interaction I've had. I was desperate to not be trapped in my room anymore.

I thought of going back by the art gallery, but I was so deep in thought I didn't remember how I My hopes shot up when I walked in one morning, the summer breeze having a bit of a chill to it, and he was standing in between two rows looking at book titles.

His headphones were in and his head was bobbing to the silent music.

I tapped on his shoulder and he turned to me, eyes narrowed before relaxing. The corner of his lips tilted up before he went back to a neutral face. A hand pulled an ear bud out and we just stood there in silence, a faint melody coming from the speaker.

My face felt hot, I was that desperate for interaction?

"Uhm," what the fuck Beatrice Prior get your shit together. "So, uh."

One of his eyebrows slowly raised up, and my heart gave an unsteady thump. It would be easier through the computer screen, I could be outgoing and charming. I wouldn't have to see people judge me.

A deep deep breath in and then out. In again and I open my mouth.

"If you want to, uhm, get coffee, I really don't drink coffee but tea could be nice if you wanted tea or you could get coffee, uh," my face is even hotter and I'm staring at the books, eyes wildly jumping around. "I mean I could drink coffee, I don't like it but if I needed to I could, and, uh."

A finger tilts my head towards him and he gives my face a once over. His eyes showing no unkindness and an unending patience. "Coffee for me, or tea, and tea for you. I have a place if you have a time."

I nod, thankful for him to finish my request. "I'm free whenever." I give a waving motion with my hands and shrug.

"Let me find this book and we will go then." He smiled and hooked a loose piece of hair back behind his ear.

I don't know whether to follow him around or wait politely, I turn to look at the books and I pick one up with a title that looks promising. The insert says it's about a young woman who escapes an abusive partner and goes on the run after killing them. I look at it again, look at the front, then clutch it to my chest as I walk up to the self checkout.

It's been so long since I've read a book that I was almost giddy with the thought of reading again. I forget why I'm there until Eric is checking out next to me, I catch him once looking at me, tongue going wild on his lip rings.

"Hmm?" I look at my feet and then back at him, confused.

"Nothing." He shrugs and nods to the door, "follow me mademoiselle." He cracks a smile as we walk to the door. "So other than sneaking in close to closing to faint in art galleries what else do you do?"

I ponder the question for a second before answering, "I write. Or well, I like to think I write."

"Hmm, for shits and giggles?" He holds the door open to the coffee shop for me and I thank him.

"Kinda, I do it because I got quite a big following, and I enjoy it. Or well used to." We stand at the counter and I go over the menu.

"So what do you write about?" He asks once we have our drinks and are sitting outside away from most of the crowd. "Romance and damsels in distress?"

I shake my head, "it used to be about romance. I uh, longed for a life that I wasn't getting at home. My family was in shards. My parents died while I was in highschool, a drunk driver hit their car. My brother moved away from home because our foster was very conservative and he ran away to live with his boyfriend. I stayed with a friend and her family.

"I wrote out my feelings, my longing for anyone to understand my loneliness. I wasn't searching for love but I was hoping that by reading my words I'd bring happiness or understanding to those who also needed to not be alone." I bite my lip and fiddle with my ring.

"So I live with my aunt Jeanine, she used to be a lawyer." He sips his coffee and I see a twinkle in his eyes. "I love her to death, my father was unknown and my mother was a junkie. Zoe is the only friend I've managed to keep. I went to the art school nearby, I'm taking a photography class right now. My aunt wanted me to be a doctor like all parents want their kids to be."

He finished his coffee, seeming to bounce around almost. "She thought I was going to go for sports or something because I did track and was really good at it, like won the state championship and all that." The Carolina sun made the red-brown in his long hair stand out and my breath caught in my chest. "But I wanted to fuck around in art and all that. You?"

I don't answer as we get up, throwing away my paper cup before we find ourselves staring at each other. His smile is almost infectious and I want to forget why I cried myself to sleep every night. My lips tremble and my cheek twitches because I just want to lose it, empty everything inside me, scream out my heartache and let the world take care of it.

"There's a park with a gazebo if you would like to sit and talk?" He leads me to this little white structure and we sit in total silence, the birds singing in the late summer breeze. "It's supposed to be so fucking hot and humid tomorrow. I take it you're not from around here?"

I stare at my sweater and then him. "I'm waiting to start my classes. I'm waiting for my divorce to finalize and," I bite my lip, "I lived a few hours away actually. We lived a few hours away. Uhm, I moved." His eyes narrow and he leans over.

"Spill, you don't seem like someone who just "moves" and your face, especially your eyes say otherwise." He waits and I think about dropping it but I don't know why I open up.

"We weren't good for each other in the end. I longed to get away from my pitiful life, I was lonely and I hated being so lonely. He seemed just as lonely as me and we started a friendship and I fell in love. Most would say because I just wanted to get away but I didn't. If I wanted a break I could've left home then went back. I left with the intention of going back because I knew, I thought," I take a deep breath again. "I thought I'd fuck it all up so I acted like I was there because I had a shitty life. Not because he was the sun in the darkness and I wanted to see it, to feel it on my skin. I wanted the happiness I longed for with someone who I could easily love and have easily love me and all my faults.

"We were fine and then it just wasn't enough. His mother didn't approve of me and we got married anyways because I was young and getting my happily ever after. My mistake was that I didn't grow up because I was never taught how. I cut off my nose to spite my face," I don't look at him. "We fought, bad. We hit each other out of anger and screamed, we threw things and broke dishes. We went to therapy trying to fix it. So we were ordered to live separately. He was all too happy to kick me into the guest room of our house as I looked for apartments. He didn't come home one day and didn't answer his phone, it was our weekly date night." My voice breaks and I swallow.

"He came home drunk and lipstick smeared on him. No dating was one of the rules we set. I wanted to ignore that I was no longer what he wanted. So I changed myself so much to be what I thought I was supposed to be that when I realized what I was supposed to be it was too late. He felt I couldn't be that and found it elsewhere and I destroyed myself and everything I loved because I didn't know how to be that. I didn't know how to unmold myself, reshape who I was meant to be, and in the process felt that my support, my anchor had abandoned me. Therefore things got even more violent. I felt as though the one person who knew me suddenly forgot what my face looked like.

"That my sunshine that kept me in the world shot me back into the darkness. I cut the tattoo on my arm trying to destroy it. It was our promise of forever and even until we uncrossed that line. It hurt to look at, to think about. It broke me when I came back to get my last couple of boxes and he was in bed with his girlfriend. 'She's not my girlfriend' he would say, 'she's just for fun. I want to have you.' I felt as though he thought it was his right to not be faithful to me. 'I want my cake and to eat it too. Please don't think I'm the villain in this story.' So I hit him, worse than I ever did.

"I broke his nose. Cops were called and I was escorted out of my house. He didn't press charges but he won't divorce me either. Something about all the insurance and benefits being worth it for me but it hurt me." My hands are shaking. "He made me the villian to all of his friends so I did worse things so I fit that narrative. I signed papers but he won't sign them. Still wanting that cake."

I deflate unsure if I could say anymore and then weakly whisper, "I'm taking medicine and going to therapy. I begged him to give me time for it to kick in and that we could talk. He didn't want to. He left me how he found me, alone, depressed, and hopeless. I turned from a romantic to a cynic. I mean he was ten years older than me. Who would move a barely nineteen year old across the country from Chicago to here? Really no one falls in love over the computer and just wants you. I was stupid and immature and thought I would get my happily ever after that would fix my sad lonely life. I was a pawn in some game he had going and I used up all my turns."

I wipe my face unable to look at Eric and he just runs a hand over my hair.

"I hacked my hair off, it was below my shoulders and the girl he liked had short hair so I cut it off to be what he wanted. I had plans to get my lips done, thought of getting breast implants." I can't cry anymore so I just sit in silence. "His name is Tobias. And he broke me worse than how I came to him."

Eric sighs and stands up pulling me with him, pulling me into a hug. A hug is all I wanted and without being told or asked he gave it willingly.

**I promise at some point these may get longer. And I may figure out how to properly do author notes since they keep messing the formatting up.**

**You can also find me over on AO3 the name is the same there.**

**I felt this was more emotional rambling but hey nanowrimo is getting done!**


	3. Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks and Eric and I picked up a pattern. When he was available we would meet at the coffee shop or we would sit together at the library. It felt nice to have one friend I could leave my apartment for. I started smiling more and at times when I was with him I almost forgot about the heartache that followed me.

I still drank, not as much and not as often.

I promised Johanna that I wouldn't and my weekly skype meetings with her were the highlight of my week. I told her about Eric, and about his friend Zoe who occasionally accompanied him. I didn't tell her about how I still cried myself to sleep when no one was around to put the pieces back together.

It's like each week I'd forget that I had to be a better person for myself. I can't expect other people to love me if I can't love me.

So I started with cutting back on drinking. Then I started typing here and there, nothing really worth it but it was a start.

I decided to really try one day when the air was getting chilly enough to just wear a jacket, and when in the library waiting for Eric I slung it across the chair next to me. I didn't see him sit down, but a shadow appeared in the corner of my eye, and nearly jumped out of my seat when I realized he was next to me, leaning over my shoulder.

"What the fuck?" I hissed pulling myself fully back into the chair.

"Hi," he smiled and then quickly pulled back. "No jacket permanently on? Tris, I am aghast." His smile started to fade when he saw my arm. "Tris."

He was shushed by a librarian and his eyes assessed me, I put my earbuds back in and wanted to ignore him. The paragraph I had been blankly staring at still there on my open laptop. As an apology Eric sat down the doughnut he brought me and the green tea I wanted.

A silent promise, we don't ask just yet. We wait until one of us brings up something dark from their past.

He slides into the chair across from me and opens his sketchbook. I never asked him what he was drawing and I felt like I wasn't a very good friend. It's almost as if he knows what I'm thinking when he looks up and his eyes catch mine.

"What do you draw?"

His tongue works those fucking rings and I glare almost. He smiles and shrugs, "stuff."

Stuff.

I nod and look back at my computer, I don't know anything about him really and it worries me a little. Am I a bad friend if I don't know what his favorite food is?

I want to ask him to dinner. So I grab a piece of paper and scribble down dinner?

I slide it over to him and wait.

I try to ignore him as he looks at it then scribbles something. He holds out his hand, note between two fingers, eyes not even looking at me.

Sure, pick a place and I'll give you the time.

I picked a small burger place not far from his shop and he promised to meet me there at six thirty. For once I was happy to go out. I actually put some effort into my appearance, actually did my makeup. I looked nice and was satisfied, my phone was ringing and I pulled it out.

"Listen I'm almost on my way, unless you want to meet earlier?" I sit down to fix the straps on my shoes, my body going lax at the voice on the other end.

"Date night?" Tobias is gruff and the phone against my ear shakes.

"Why does it matter?" I'm short.

"Well you didn't answer about our night so I'm taking a trip over to you. I'll be there tomorrow and we'll do dinner." He is so sure of himself. I'm up pacing trying to keep calm.

Sure, because he just wants to be pleased sexually but not by me. I wasn't cutting it for him, I just looked good on paper. No matter how many times I begged he didn't want to sign papers. He didn't want to have to tell people we split, didn't want to let people know we were unhappy. So I moved and everyone that knew us as a happy married couple was told that I moved for work and either I'd get to transfer or he'd move to me.

So I sat miles away while he went out and partied, and got drunk. While he fucked any skirt and Snapped it to me. While in the beginning I would call and he'd just say I'm going out, he never tried so hard to go out. He never had time for me was always too busy.

When time cleared up so did what he truly wanted. Found other people to fill the bed, to fill this void in him that he lied about me being enough for.

"I have plans and can't do dinner for some time." I say, while not one hundred percent true I could find other places to be.

"Dinner, A La Mangia Poco. I'll pick you up at six. Then we'll go back to your place." His voice had something in it. False hope rose in me. I knew though, and he knew that I knew that, he promised everything. He apologized for hurting me, upsetting me. He promised we'd get better but he wanted his freedom. He wanted it to go away, he wanted me to be fine with everything I expressed displeasure towards.

"Great. I'll be waiting." I feel my mouth move, still wanting to please him. Wanting to make him happy even though all it does is make me hate myself. Makes me angrier and sadder.

I hang up the phone before tossing it on my bed, and cover my face. I press my back against the wall and slide down, my thoughts all to consuming. Draining me of any will power as I think about how I lost my house, how I got an apartment on his salary because I couldn't move in with my brother. I couldn't go home to a place that I didn't belong.

And being homeless wasn't an option. Not here and definitely not in Chicago.

I lay my head against my knees and just breathe.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I ignore the faint buzzing coming from my phone.

I just need to breathe.

I'm crawling into bed, ignoring my made up face as I cry and breathe. I stumble out of bed just to blindly grab the bottle and put it to my lips. A few dizzying gulps later I;m stumbling back into bed for the night.

Sleep comes easily in my drunken stupor.

I roll over as the sunlight hits the wall, my head slightly hurts and I sit up, walls spinning. I dug out my phone stuck under my leg, the battery almost dead. The screen full of calls from Christina checking in on me, an appointment reminder to speak with Johanna. And one text and missed call from Eric.

My heart nearly stops when I realize what happened.

I never showed up. I never called, I got drunk and went to sleep.

I didn't care that it was past noon, I got up long enough to strip and clean the leftover makeup off my face before crawling back into bed. Texts and calls unanswered as I fell back asleep.

* * *

**I really don't have anything to say other than thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

I avoided the library, and didn't use my phone as much. I was honestly avoiding Eric all day. I was waiting outside for Tobias later that evening, putting some effort into my appearance, I wouldn't let him know all I did was cry. Didn't want him to know he still got to me.

I smoothed my hair back enough and put a few jeweled pins in to pin back the longer bits curling around my ears. Makeup on to hide the swollen appearance of my face, the dark circles that were permanently under my eyes.

I glared into the horizon waiting for his car to pull into the parking lot.

And it did, fifteen minutes late.

The stupid blue of the SUV we got for children we'd never have.

With my feet aching in the heels I stood in I slowly walked to the passenger seat. I barely had the door open and in the seat when Tobias smirked at me. His eyes giving me a once over, I freeze as I behold the bruise on his neck and the faint smell of perfume on him

Rage lit my stomach on fire, the bruise was new and the perfume strong enough to be recent.

This bastard had the gall to show up for a "date" with the intention to show off that I was easily replaceable.

"You smell." I say before looking out the front windshield.

"Well, Nita came over for a movie and pizza. You know how it is." He sounds so full of himself and the more I sit near him the more I wonder why I cry over him. Why waste tears on someone who doesn't want you? Doesn't try to fix anything or themselves?

It's a quiet ride with the radio faintly playing, neither of us speak. When we pull into the restaurant parking lot I turn to unbuckle myself and he is right there, we're so close I can see the dark patch of blue that makes up the inner corner of one eye.

As I stare at him and his eyes seem to burn, a soft smile shapes his face. "I've missed you, Beatrice."

And with that tone, those eyes, I remember why it was so easy to fall for him. It became even more so when he opened the car and restaurant doors for me. It made my heart race and my stomach flutter.

I was still in love with this man and he knew it. He would play me every which way and would continue to see others behind my back. And I would put up with it because I wanted to be everything for him.

I wanted to make him happy.

We sit down and I look over the menu, eyes going straight to the drinks. I needed something to calm my nerves. I order a nice red wine and a water, my eyes scan the menu and we are quiet in an awkward way. The busy atmosphere so loud it's deafening.

The waitress comes by as Tobias opens his mouth and I turn, thankful that she did. I order a shrimp scampi and sip my wine once she's gone.

"Beatrice," he reaches a hand across the table.

"When are you going to sign the papers, Tobias?" I take a long swallow of wine and tap my fingers against the glass. I have my glass filled a second time, it's half gone when he tries again.

"I worry about you," his face scrunches up. "How much do you drink? Are you always drunk?"

"Are you still fucking everything that moves?" I drain the glass and set it down as food arrives. I spear a shrimp on my fork and glare at him, waiting for his answer.

"Always so immature." He takes a bite of his dish then looks at me. "I want you to get better, and as your husband," I cut him off sharply and rudely.

"Ex husband. You need to sign the papers."

He smiles and it angers me even more. "You're drunk and don't know what you are saying."

I let my eyes roam around the room angry at him and not wanting to make eye contact. Instead my eyes make contact with a set of dark ones at a table, I go still. Eric is sitting at a table with an older blonde lady, his mouth a grim line as she looks up then turns in her seat. Eyes scan the room and she says something that he shakes his head to. He looks away and I know he saw me, I know that he knows that I know that he saw me.

I get up, no longer hungry with my dinner and head to the exit, the nausea getting to me and making my stomach roll.

The cool night air blows against my face and I go around the side, away from the windows. The door opens and there's someone standing there.

"Tobias, leave me alone." The wine suddenly getting to me as everything turns.

"You're drunk." Not an accusation and not Tobias' voice.

My head shoots up, maybe a little too fast, and I look at him. He is standing there, working the lip rings and hands in his pockets. "Are you okay? I was hoping for an explanation, and while I still want an apology, I can see why you didn't show up last night."

I grimace and close my eyes tight.

"Beatrice, you are embarrassing me." Tobias hisses as he rounds the corner, keys in hand. "Let's go. You need to head home because you are in no shape to be out in public."

"No," I stare him down, "I want you to sign the papers. Then I never want to hear from you again."

I continue to stare, swaying in place, Tobias' jaw goes taught and his nose flares. His breathing was rapid and I almost fell with the new spinning of the world. Eric caught me and held me against him.

"I should get her home." Their voices almost mix and I can make out Tobias' angry growl and Eric's tone seems calm. Spots appear and I duck my head and empty my stomach on the ground. I hear Tobias swear a colorful string of words and a hand rubs my back.

The world spins even more.

My eyes blink blearily as I twist around and realize I'm in bed, my bed. In my apartment.

I take deep breaths as I wait for the world to stop spinning, glad for the medicine and water next to me that I down. Chugging three full glasses of wine on an empty stomach was not the way to do it. I just proved to Tobias what a drunk I was.

I make my way to the bathroom and notice I'm still in my outfit from last night, I strip and once I'm sure I can shower I do. I leave the bathroom, a towel wrapped around me when I notice the receipt on my dresser and the familiar handwriting.

You owe me shoes but I'll accept a make up dinner and an apology.

My face burns as I realize that I didn't make up Eric in my inebriated state, nor did I make up Tobias' anger with me. The thought of hickeys on his neck piss me off but there's nothing I can do. With a once over I realize that Tobias isn't in the apartment and with no fucks that I could give at the moment I duck out and head to the gallery to apologize to Eric.

The walk there is uneventful, stopping to get us coffee and a muffin, even though it's well into the afternoon.

The door chimes and I see Zoe talking to someone in the corner, Eric must've been in the back.

I let my eyes wander the art.

It was a gallery that they let art students showcase their work to get discovered while finishing up their classes, or if not students just to be part of the artistic community. I smile at the splashes of paint on canvases and sketches, I nearly choke on the bite of muffin in my mouth.

There among all the sketches are a few sketches of a short haired, thin girl. Sometimes a bright smile that reaches her eyes, an expression of delight, a look of pure sorrow. The worst were the multiple ones that showed a thin girl who looked broken titled 'Study Case: Loving Yourself'.

"Hey." Eric takes the coffee and muffin. "Are you okay?"

"You draw stuff huh?"

"Yeah, stuff." Comes the quiet reply as I stare as my own face. As I'm shocked that out of all the broken there is one picture of pure joy and I know the incident that it was about.

The day Eric and I went for coffee. I never knew I could be that happy.


End file.
